Free Painting The Darkness by Robert Goddard Page A

Sir Hugo. ‘Glad you could be here.’ We shook hands briefly. ‘Count, this is the gentleman who married Miss Sumner. William Trenchard. Trenchard: Monsieur le Comte de Moncalieri
.’
    I extended my hand again, but the Count did not reciprocate. Instead, he bowed gravely. ‘Bonsoir, monsieur.’ His voice was rich and syrupy. As for his face, it meant nothing to me: set folds of patrician fat on an undeniably noble countenance, eyes bright and piercing beneath a hooded, somewhat brooding brow. I took him for some fleshy fragment of Second Empire nobility for whom the Third Republic was not an agreeable haven
.
    ‘
I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Count
.’
    ‘
You need not be, Monsieur Trenchard.’ His English was suddenly perfect, as if the French accent were as contrived as the title. ‘Mine is the honour: to meet such an embodiment of English virtues
.’
    ‘
I’m sorry?
’
    ‘
Hugo tells me that the Trenchards are
très grands épiciers.
Shopkeeping is, in this country, a noble calling. Thus am I honoured.’ It was impossible to tell from his expression whether he was attempting to be humorous or insulting. I merely smiled weakly
.
    ‘
Do I gather that you have met my wife, Count?
’
    ‘
Many years ago. I doubt she would recall the occasion. Yet who knows? Recollection is suddenly in season, is it not, Hugo?
’
    Sir Hugo seemed equally uncertain as to his meaning. ‘The Count is an old friend of my father, Trenchard, and hence well acquainted with my late brother. Whilst in London, he has generously agreed to—
’
    ‘
Inspect your inconvenient pretender.’ The Count bowed. ‘That, too, will be an honour
.’
    Cleveland had struggled from his seat to join us. ‘Seems only fitting, Count. After all, pretenders are rather your national speciality, what?
’
    Again, there was no flicker of the fixed sullen expression. ‘Frédéric’s sense of humour has always been an education to me, Monsieur Trenchard, as, no doubt, it is to you
.’
    ‘
I must admit I didn’t see this as a laughing matter
.’
    ‘
No?’ said Cleveland with a pained look. ‘Then, I’d better take myself off to the dunce’s corner.’ He drifted away, but only to the piano, where he flopped down on the stool and commenced playing a Mozart concerto with disarming ease. Sir Hugo smiled in a show of tolerance, seated the Count, proffered drinks and bustled about the room, leaving me to meet Moncalieri’s morbidly searching gaze from the sofa opposite
.
    ‘
How did you come to be acquainted with Sir Gervase, Count?’ I asked
.
    For a moment, he seemed disinclined to respond, toying with the watch-chain stretched across his silk-waistcoated midriff and twitching his mouth inconclusively. Then he suddenly decided the question warranted an answer. ‘I was a guest at Cleave Court in the year 1846, when the world was young, and I with it, when one could take one’s pleasure without fear of … the consequences
.’
    ‘
Before James Davenall was born?
’
    He ignored the question. ‘Sir Gervase and I later served together – in the Crimea
.’
    Sir Hugo intervened from the other side of the room, where he was pacing about beneath a Landseer hunting scene. ‘The Count is a long-standing friend of the family, Trenchard. As such, he is well qualified to expose Norton as an impostor
.’
    ‘
You have not yet met Mr Norton, Count?
’
    ‘
No, monsieur. That treat is reserved for tomorrow
.’
    ‘
Some treat!’ said Sir Hugo. He was by the doorway now, where something caught his attention from the room beyond, the windows of which looked on to the street. ‘Ah! Here’s Richard. Excuse me.’ He hurried out, giving me an opportunity to test the extent of Moncalieri’s friendship with Sir Gervase
.
    ‘
I gather Sir Gervase resisted the notion that his son was dead, Count. As his friend, did you comprehend his reasons?
’
    ‘
Surely it is easy to understand a father’s weakness. Gervase could not abandon his son